


Cerulean

by h0ldthiscat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, fic prompts, fic requests, post-IWTB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ldthiscat/pseuds/h0ldthiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She shucks off her shorts when they are a few hundred feet out and he revels in the sight of her legs stretched long before her. The light blue button down flaps in the breeze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cerulean

She squints into the sunlight and shields her eyes with her hand even though she's wearing sunglasses. "I don't know, Mulder."

"Is it the sun you're afraid of or my rowing abilities?" 

"Both," she confesses, looking warily at the hand-painted sign that promises them a rowboat all to themselves for only $20. "How far out are you planning on getting?"

"Far enough that those bratty kids on the beach won't be able to see us necking.” He tickles at her side under her coverup, which he is beginning to recognize is an old shirt of his he thought he’d lost years ago. 

She arches an eyebrow at him. "Oh, there'll be necking on this rowboat of yours, will there?" 

"There will if I have anything to say about it." 

She sighs and scoots closer to him. "You've broken down my steel resolve."

The gentleman who takes their money and shows them to the dock doesn’t speak much English, but Mulder is too busy watching the sway of Scully’s hips in her loose pair of cotton shorts that peek out from her--his--shirt to notice much.

He puts his hand on the small of her back to help her down into the rowboat, grinning like a fool as she struggles to keep her balance while she moves to sitting.

“I’m used to bigger boats than this,” she explains, reading his mind. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I heard you think it,” she whispers in his ear as he slides past her and down into the boat, and he laughs and kisses her softly. 

X

She shucks off her shorts when they are a few hundred feet out and he revels in the sight of her legs stretched long before her. The light blue button down flaps in the breeze.

“That’s my shirt,” he says. His arms are beginning to tire of rowing, but he notices the way her eyes travel up and down his biceps behind her sunglasses, so he keeps at it.

“I was wondering when you’d ask about it,” she says, smiling that mysterious smile of hers, all smirk and secrets in the corners of her mouth. 

“I haven’t seen that thing in…” He shakes his head, unable to remember the last time he’d worn it. “I doubt it’d fit me anymore.”

“You’ve filled out quite nicely,” she praises, lowering her sunglasses down her nose to stare at him pointedly. He thinks he sees her bite her bottom lip. She rubs her foot up the front of his calf. “It’s yours anytime you want it back.” 

They fall silent after a while, and he falls into a rhythm with the movement of the water. It’s unbelievably blue, like her eyes get sometimes, like her bikini right now. He’s about to open his mouth to say something like, “I see why your father loved it out here so much,” or “You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” but she speaks first. 

“I took it from your apartment when you died.”

It takes him a minute to realize she’s talking about the shirt, and he doesn’t know what to say. “Oh.” 

She tells him things sometimes, things about when he was gone the first time, and then the second time. She says them like facts, not quite cold and clinical, but very matter-of-factly, as she likely had to think of them back then to get by. _William moved his mobile through telekinesis. For a while I wanted to bleach my hair blonde. One night, after I gave him up, I thought very fleetingly about taking a bottle of pills._

He lets her tell him, because he knows she needs to, because he knows she wants to share with him, to tell him all the little things he missed. It kills him a little bit but he lets her tell him. 

“It looks better on you than it ever did on me,” he tells her finally.

The water laps against the hull of the rowboat and he feels the sun very hotly on his shoulders.

“I didn’t mean to be an Eeyore,” she says after a little while.

“You’re not,” he assures her. She is not.

“I should have taken that little red speedo you used to have,” she muses, grinning now. “Brought it with us on this trip.”

He almost drops one of the oars in the water. “How do you--”

“I went looking for you one morning and someone said they’d seen you go down to the pool. So I took a peek in and… I didn’t stop peeking.”

“When was this?” He is equal parts embarrassed and aroused.

She shrugs, her long hair slipping off her shoulder and down her back. “Long time ago. ’96, ’97?”

He glances past her to the dock where they set off. He can’t hardly see it anymore. “You up for some necking, Dr. Scully?”

Her eyes flash and she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her breasts strain against the flimsy fabric of her bikini top. “I thought you’d never ask,” she purrs.


End file.
